Sea levels around the world had been on the rise for decades, the water running off of landlocked ice caps slowly but surely submerging coastal lands and forcing human populations to move inward. The restrictions on space meant people had to find new places to live, and with the increased need for usable farmland people were forced to build underground shelters all around the world, or risk starvation. The US and England were the first two nations to normalize "reverse skyscrapers", massive holes in the ground that allowed agriculture to spread more widely as land became more and more scarce. Millions in impoverished countries died from lack of fresh water, the rising sea levels having forced seawater hundreds of miles up into the largest rivers in the world, mass killing fish and animals that relied on the freshwater. Global temperatures rose sharply, the massive amount of new water coverage increasing evaporation exponentially, warming huge chunks of the world to tropical levels where seasons had existed prior, while freezing other areas where they'd never seen snow. The pollution from flooded refineries, oil wells, nuclear plants, and other industrial areas wreaking havoc on the fish population of the world, driving them away from the shores where the pollutant was strongest, making food even more difficult to come by. The fish and animals that remained at the coasts were changed dramatically from radiation and pollution, altering their appearances and forcing rapid evolution, creating new species in a span of a few years. The creatures that could survive there reproduced at increasing rates, their inedible qualities making them even more of a nuisance for humans. While creatures who could eat them thrived, grew, and evolved.

The human population was pushed to its brink, overpopulated for the land available, unable to access resources that had been drowned beneath hundreds of feet of water, shortages of food and clean water. Entire continents had experienced mass localized extinctions of humans. Africa and South America suffering the worse while pockets of people in Asia managed to hold on or migrate west to the EU. Then when it looked as if the ice caps had finished melting away and the waters might stop, fissures appeared across the world, earthquakes ravaging the torn landscapes, driven by the underground activities of humans. The "reverse skyscrapers" or pocket cities as they were called, became deathtraps. Many collapsing in on themselves with the increases seismic activity, others flooding as the shifting land masses allowed water to reach further inland and continue to destroy. And finally, once the dry land had become fractured and sunken, the prehistoric water tables beneath much of the world collapsed, further dividing the land into archipelagos rather than large islands. It was from one of these water tables, the US/Canada table, that something escaped. A breed of aquatic creature trapped underground since the time of dinosaurs. A terrifying, vicious, intelligent creature that had, in small populations, survived their time trapped beneath the earth. Free to roam the impossibly wide ranges of the world's oceans, they began preying on the humans who dared enter the water in search of food. While a relatively small population, they are large and cunning with ruthless aggression unseen in any other living animal, besides humans themselves. The level of their intelligence, however, is yet unknown, and it may never be known to people, as the world's population spirals closer to total extinction.

__________________________________

-- Characters --

Glasmar -- Damxge

Spoiler:

Name: Glasmar Waters

Age: Twenty-five

Sex: Male

Physical description: Just under six feet tall, Glasmar is a thin young man with long bleach blonde hair bordering on white and light hazel eyes. His face is round with a short nose and stubby chin, his forehead just a little too big for the rest of his face. He wears a stubbly beard and has a constant sunburn across his cheeks and nose, freckles littering his well tanned shoulders and neck.

Attire: Shirtless most of the time, Glasmar wears a pair of baggy bleached white shorts that hang just below his knees. On his feet he wears a pair of moccasins made out of crocodile hide, secured around the ankle with a band of tough leather. On the calf of his left leg he has a makeshift leather sheath with a large hunting knife. Around his waist he wears a utility belt, similar to a construction worker's belt, but with pockets that snap closed. On the belt he carries a crude, sword-like machete, a canteen that is almost always full of water, some form of food, usually dried meat, and an array of small tools such as screwdrivers, a hammer, makeshift nails, and things of that nature. Finally, he carries with him a sack. Medium sized, he uses it to fill with rocks to sink to the bottom of whatever body of water he's exploring, carrying the things he finds underwater with him, and for transporting his limited set of belongings.

Personality: While willing to work with anyone, he trusts no one and refuses to sleep in the same place as other people. Either finding a hiding spot away from others or leaving entirely. Besides this key aspect of his personality, he's generally in a good mood, tries his best to be positive, and is doing his best to make his way in the toughness of life.

Backstory: Glasmar grew up the son of a powerful warlord by the name of Blackwaters. Blackwaters inhabited a large island, around fifty square miles, of solid jungle. Somehow, at the center of the island, was a quarry where people before the floods had been excavating for building stone. This combined with Blackwater's immense following allowed him to build a medieval-like castle and town to house and protect himself and his people. From here he purified water and farmed the native fruits that existed on the island. He was so successful that he began exporting water, fruits, and vegetables to other large islands where people had set up villages and, in some cases, cities. While he was respected and loved by his people, to the rest of the world around him he was feared. Should a settlement slight him, fall short on a payment and refuse to make up for it, or dare to travel to his island with the intent of stealing from him or taking over, they were wiped out by his powerful army. An army who used fire and explosives as their primary weapons to demolish entire settlements and sometimes, whole islands. Blackwater's signature method for executing traitors and enemies is an execution through drowning in fresh, clean, purified water. Glasmar was born, however, to a cook in the kitchens of Blackwater's "palace". Blackwaters never accepted him as his child and for the longest time paid the mother to keep quiet about Glasmar. No one must know he had a heir. In fact, Glasmar didn't even know who his father was, he'd only been told he was a great man who had to leave before he was born. He grew up as part of the Hunting Party, a revered group of hunters who supplied meats to Blackwaters himself. They traveled from island to island, hunting massive animals of every kind. Many in the Party died and were replaced, in fact, after five years in the Party, Glasmar was the last of the original members and only at the age of fifteen. He's gone from fetching the water and skinning the kills to leading the hunts and striking the killing blow. It was while Glasmar was away on one of his trips that his mother made the ill fated mistake of mentioning his heritage to another cook. The news spread like wildfire, Blackwaters had a son. Upon returning to Vola, Blackwater's island, Glasmar's mother was gone, vanished from the face of the earth, and a poisoned knife awaited him at the docks. A small fishing boat, however, was the difference between life and death for the young man. An old friend of his mother's intercepted them as they came back to shore, explained the situation, and helped him escape to a nearby island. The Hunting Party simply told Blackwaters that Glasmar had been killed by a shark they were hunting and that was the end of it. Since that day, Glasmar has been surviving through his skill as a hunter and natural affinity for not dying. While he has ventured far from his father's island, one day he plans on returning and paying the vile man back for what happened to his mother.

Sweeney -- Grape

Spoiler:

Name: Sweeney Spears

Age: Twenty three

Sex: Male

Physical description: Standing at approximately five feet ten inches, Sweeney has pale, cadaveresque skin, blue-grey eyes and messy black hair. He has a lithe body, with little muscle definition. His face is angular, with a large nose, small mouth and larger than average eyes. He constantly sports dark bags beneath his eyes, and has sharp cheekbones.

Attire: Sweeney's attire consists of a dirty oversized grey t-shirt, black overalls, and a pair of coarse leather boots. He wears a utility belt, with pockets often filled with fruit, dried meat and medicinal plants. Also attached to his belt is a small dagger. Attached crudely to one of the suspending braces on his overalls is a makeshift buckle, a decent length of rope, and a roll of bandage.

Personality: Tending to keep to himself, Sweeney avoids large groups and doesn't like bonding too much with others. However, this is because of his focus on survival. He's a natural cynic, but beneath his bitterness and general negativity, he can be a caring person.

Backstory: Having grown up in a large family and lived in a pocket city for majority of his life, Sweeney learned from a young age that survival came first and that you had to do all you could to make sure you were safe. He had a rough childhood, often having to not eat and constantly be working underground in the filth to survive and help his whole family survive. Unfortunately, as he grew older these days continued leading to him being dirty, underweight and often bordering on starvation. By the age of twenty, he'd finally gotten the balance between work and health just right so that he could survive with minimal illness. But, by the age of twenty-one, his pocket city was crumbling due to seismic activity and he had to flee if he wanted to live, leaving his family and entire life behind. Moving from island to island, and losing all he knew over and over, he eventually played his cards safe and kept living as a nomad, eventually finding himself near the island where fruits, water, and other goods had been exported.

Jonsun -- Conor

Spoiler:

Name: Jonsun 'Blackgrin' ConwayAge: 28Sex: MalePhysical description: A ragged, salty-looking man, Jonsun stands at 5"10 and is lithe and slender in build. His brown face is scared, and his black beard forms into a long braid, as does his wild hair. Jon's face is gaunt, his eyes wide and calculating. He has more lead teeth than natural ones, most of which are at the front of his jaw, gaining him the nickname 'Blackgrin' amongst his mutinous crew.Personality: Jonsun is foolishly wise. His confident, easy-going personality can be quite suspicious to some, and he often plots. Jonsun's interests revolve solely around himself, as is the nature of his lifestyle, though these interests often take their form through philosophy, ideals and mindset, rather than through material goods. Jonsun considers himself, in some regard, as some sort of philosopher/guru, though his habits of theft, murder and betrayal say otherwise.Backstory: Born to a small clan that lived on floating rigs designed to endure and convert the sea into usable energy, Jonsun's first few years were simple and bare. When he made the sudden decision to join a crew aboard a passing ship - the only other sign of life he'd ever seen - it was a sign that the young man was meant for grander things.Jonsun pulled his weight on a ship, and found himself swapping crews when he could often. He loved the freedom he had now discovered, and took full advantage of the possibilities. As a result, Jonsun travelled a lot of the world in his late teens, and made many friends along the way, as well as enemies. At 20, Jonsun turned to piracy aboard a ship called 'The Trident'. He sailed under Captain Riggs, a strong, but savage man who had lived by the Red Code all his life - the Red Code being a list of ideals and morals which a pirate must live by. The 'red' part comes from the creed that all pirates must sale under a red flag of some kind as a symbol of their lifestyle. The Red Code deems it forbidden for a pirate to hide their identity. Jonsun lived and breathed piracy from that day on, living solely off of stealing, murder and scavenging. The soft, warm, honest boy he had been for so long evolved into a more selfish, realistic individual - an individual who wanted to live free, or die. and Jonsun came very close to that on many an occasion.Jonsun had become close to Captain Riggs, and was soon promoted to First Mate by the time he was 24. From that point on, Riggs and Jonsun formed an unlikely partnership, and the duo were responsible for many successful robberies, plunders and assassinations. On a warm night in the South Water, Jonsun was awoke to the sound of cannons firing. He ran up to the deck to see what the crew were firing at - a huge monster, rising from the sea. Soon, it became apparent that their were many, all made of a strange, hellish mass of scales and teeth. That night, Jonsun and Captain Riggs spent five hours fighting back the creatures, and in a moment of devilish opportunity, Riggs kicked Jonsun overboard to distract one of the last-remaining ones. But Rigg's timing was off, his harpoon rifle jolting off to the left and missing the target. Jonsun, still processing the mutiny of his Captain, was helpless to the creature's wrath, and was yanked under the surface.

I waded, waist deep, into the shallows that surrounded the small island on which I'd taken up residence. The brutal midday sun beating down on my leathery shoulders, the water refracting shards of light onto my skin and into my squinted eyes. I stared into the crystalline waters, the bottom a soft white sand dotted here and there with colorful seashells. I'd been told years ago that they got their bright, neon colors from the pollutants that they'd taken in, but I personally believed that's just how they are. After all, I'd never seen this pollution everyone carried on about. I shook my head, dismissing the distraction and returning my focus to the task at hand, tightening my grip around the spear I carried, a long, jagged piece of blue-green sea glass lashed to the end for the head. I scanned the bottom with a trained eye, looking for the dark patch of sand that marked my target. I continued wading along the beach for almost half of a mile, the water rising to my armpits as I hunted. At long last, I found what I sought, a large, five foot across, patch of sand that was just a bit darker than the surrounding sand. Steeling myself, I took a deep breath and ducked below the surface, my vision blurring under the water. Ever so gently, I sidled up to the patch of sand and readied my spear, rolled my shoulders once, and plunged it into the sand. Instantly the earth burst into life as the massive ray that hid just below the surface flailed, its seven foot long tail lashing out like a blade, the barbs that lined it at each at least a foot long. Straining my arms, I lifted myself up above the writhing creature, out of the way of its deadly tail while simultaneously driving the spear further down, through the creature and into the sand below it, pinning it. And there I stayed, clinging to the rough carved stick as the beast fought to escape, jarring the spear in my grip. After a few minutes the ray began to tire, a thick cloud of blood growing like a churning crimson storm around us as the life was drained from it. Straining to see through the red murk, I caught a glimpse of the creature's eye, and like lightning I reached down and pulled my knife from its sheath on my calf and dove down onto the beast, driving the blade straight into its skull. With a silent underwater war-cry, I twisted the blade, the entire fish going limp. Bursting from the water's surface I inhaled deeply and wiped my hair back from my eyes. A thin film of blood coating my entire body, giving me a reddish hue. I had no time to recover from the struggle, the blood would draw predators from miles around, and those weren't as easy to kill as they ray. Taking another breath, I ducked back below the water and began the task of hauling the fish to shore. I was still ankle deep in the surf when the first fin poked out of the water behind me, at the spot I'd fought my prey. A tall, black, jagged fin that stood at least two feet out of the water and was several feet long, the marking of a skeleton ray, the vicious man eating cousin of the ray I'd just killed. With renewed vigor, I double timed it up out of the water, just as another fin appeared, and another. After a few minutes there were five of them circling the reddish path of water fifty yards from shore. The beasts were the most common carnivorous fish, but not the only ones, and not the most dangerous by far.

The fire crackled merrily away next to me as I sat on the sands skinning my catch, a huge filet resting on a rock in the fire sizzling its tune and emitting the most heavenly scent. The sun was beginning to descend, but I had another few hours before darkness. Behind me, up the beach and in the small stand of palm trees that resided on the island stood a tiny shack. It wasn't really a shack, per say, but a long boat turned upside down with the sand beneath it dug out to allow someone to sleep underneath. It was here that I'd lived for the last few weeks, carving a good stock of spears, mending my nets, and making some traps that I could use on more populated islands. The island had a huge deposit of sea glass on the eastern peak, just beneath the surface of the water, and it was from here that I had amassed a huge supply of spearheads, shivs, and arrowheads. So many that I worried I'd be carrying them with me for years before I used them all, but I couldn't let it go to waste. Lost in reverie, I mindlessly chopped away at my catch, tossing filet after filet onto a large palm I had next to me, ready to be salted and packed for later use. It wasn't until something dark floating in the water caught my interest that I moved from my spot, nearly the entire ray sliced up and prepped for salting. Hoping for another chunk of solid driftwood, or maybe a piece of metal, I got to my feet and made my way to the water's edge, the waves lapping gently at my ankles. I put a hand above my brow, trying to block out the intense orange light streaming from the setting sun, squinting my eyes to see what the sea had graced me with today. Almost instantly I noticed that there was a moss of some sort flowing around the object, but as it drifted closer the more it looked like cloth, and the more the object looked like a person. I sighed and dropped my hand to my hip, shaking my head as I made my way out into the water to pull the body to shore.

I prayed under every breath that this makeshift raft would hold together until I made it close enough to land to not die. Sure, God was probably dead, but I knew I didn't want to be dead too. My overalls unbuckled, I lifted part of my shirt to wipe the sweat from my forehead. The sun was blazing, and it felt almost as if it were focusing on me with intent to burn me to a crisp. I prayed that didn't happen either. It probably wouldn't do anything, but it was the only thing I could really do at the moment. Paddling the raft with a large branch I'd found on another island, I did my best to keep calm. I was desperate to find a new island to find food and shelter on. After all, I would certainly die out here if I couldn't get to a source of semi-drinkable water soon. I gulped. My mouth had never been so dry. I breathed heavily, trying to keep cool and awake. I was low on food, and surrounded by a vast amount of undrinkable water. The creatures swimming in it were teasing me. I knew they, or at least the grotesquely large crabs I'd managed to kill and eat, were delicious. They knew it too, and they were teasing me by managing to avoid the pointed end of my branch. I really was desperate, I knew I was slowly going crazy from dehydration and heat exposure. But, I also knew I'd have to suck it up and tough it through. Quickly digging into my very small and very private supply of dried fruits, I ate as little as I could to keep my energy up. In the distance, I could see the silhouette of an island, and if I just kept going I'd make it to shore and could repeat my usual process of living. Again, I prayed under every breath that this makeshift raft would hold together until I made it close enough to land. I prayed that the new island had something I could work with if this raft did fall apart, which was most likely going to happen. Skinny as I was, this wood was rotted and soaking up sea water every minute I was on it. It couldn't last forever.

I kept going, and going, and going. My arms were aching, but I forced myself to ignore it. I could feel how stiff they were, but stiff arms was a price I was willing to pay for temporary safety. It was nothing in the long run. Eyelids drooping, and my head sagging in tiredness, I did my best to keep my eyes open and looking ahead at the island. If I made it there, found some semblance of shelter, even if it was just the area beneath a tree's canopy, I would let myself sleep. If I could even sleep. I was exhausted to my bones, but every time my eyes closed all I could see was bloodshed; a result of the desperation and depravity from the last group I had been with. At least I got some materials out of it and managed to make this raft so I could leave.

Finally, I was close enough to the island that I had a good chance of being able to wade through the waters with my branch if -when- the raft fell apart. I could see some seashells, blindingly bright. They were gaudy, and annoying, but I still carefully leaned in and grabbed a few. They could be useful sometimes. Looking at the handful I had grabbed and placed on the raft, I immediately knew that at least two were the calcified remains of cuttlefish. I could add bits of them to my medicinal pocket if they survived long enough. Hitting an unexpected bit of a sandbank, I tumbled off the raft and could already feel the bruises that were forming on my frail arms. Quickly, I grabbed the shells and my branch, got up as fast as I physically could. With that, I started to walk, praying that I could find somewhere mildly safe before it got too dark.

It was a cloudy horizon, but I was happy to see it. Safely aboard my makeshift raft of driftwood and rags, I bobbed up and down the ocean's skin, fighting the waves for balance as my weary legs struggled to hold my weight. I had to hold onto the mast for support. The night had been unforgiving and ruthless.But there was hope ahead in the form of a small island. And oh-so-small it was, with only a slight mountain peak to signal its whereabouts. It cast a silhouette as the sun shone behind it, coveting the whole of its figure in shadow. It was hard to tell what the island was made up of. Lush jungles? Baron deserts? A thriving city, perhaps? The latter was the ideal, but I saw no sails or masts poking around the shores.

"Bloody waves..." I grumbled, stumbling about as the sea tried to grasp at me from the surface. My arms and face were sunburnt, my lips cracked, and my hair was wiry and tangled. The rags I wore were all that survived the wreckage, but as the tied carried be forgivingly closer to the island, I pulled a length of red sash from my trousers and tied it to the top of the mast, just as the Red Code would have me do.After what felt like an hour, the island had grown into a long, spanning beach. It was now mid day, and the sun was as relentless as ever. I sighed, more so with disappointment than relief, as I struggled to see any way I could call this island a haven - it was deserted.Coming up on my port side, however, I noticed the unmistakable, towering fins of skeleton rays circling a patch of water about ten feet from the raft. I had been paddling with my arms and feet, but I wasn't sticking my tutsies in there, and so I hopelessly floated at the mercy of the tide again, which carried me further down the island's coast.It was a long, golden beach. Somewhat of a paradise, some may say, with the sand dissolving into thick, tropical shrubbery that I could now see covered the whole island. I slowly inched closer and closer to dry land until I could wade through the water knee-deep. I was tired, hungry, and needed a drink, but I still found the effort to pull the raft to shore in case I had to make a hasty exit. The red flag fluttered in the sea breeze like fire, but the wind also carried a fishy scent that at this moment in time smelt delicious.Still catching my breath and more-or-less running on fumes, I squinted far off into the distance to see smoke. i reached for my belt as if to grab a hilt, but realised I had lost my sabre in the wreckage.

"I suppose i'll take the civil approach then..." I murmured to myself as I began to stumble my way through the sand and towards the smoke.

I was on body number five, lined up just out of reach of the water for fear of attracting the skeleton rays back closer to shore. At first I thought they'd been burned, from the way their skin was blackened, but their hair and clothes were perfectly intact and fine. It wasn't until I hauled the fifth body out of the drink and the soft orange glow of the sunset illuminated his face did I realize what it was. Their entire bodies were bruised. Not a single patch of skin left intact, their eyes completed red, a sign that the blood vessels had been destroyed. I'd never seen injuries such as this and had no clue what could have caused it. Unfortunately, the men didn't have much by way of supplies on them, one had a knife buried in his leg, but I found it better to just leave it. A short time later, I sat, pondering the strange injuries, chewing slowly on the filet in my hand. My reverie was broken, though, as something moved to my right, a short distance up the beach. Lurching to my feet, I tossed my fish back onto the cooking rock and hefted my spear in my right hand, straining my eyes in the low light to make out the individual wandering up the beach. I glanced left and right, making sure no one else was around, for fear of being ambushed.

After a moment, the stranger realized I'd seen them and waved broadly, but said nothing. I stood frozen as he approached, his hands kept in the open where I could see them, he'd done this before. As he neared, I played with the idea of simply throwing my spear at him and ending this business here and now. He looked haggard and tired, likely hailing from the same wreck or accident that delivered the bodies to me, and probably wouldn't put up much of a fight if I decided he needed to die. I tightened my grip on the spear, he was within range now and I could see him glancing about warily, obviously gauging the likelihood that I was alone. I glanced about for a moment, making sure I didn't have any of my gear or weapons lying about, but I'd already hauled it all back up to my shelter earlier, between bodies. I sighed and lowered my spear, which had been pointing at the newcomer until now, but I didn't loosen my grip just yet. About twenty feet away he stopped, eyeing me warily, sizing me up. Neither of us speaking for a time. His beard and hair were roughly braided, salt deposits apparent in the black mess indicating a long stint on the water. His clothes, what little there were, were waterlogged and ragged, a red cloth belt wrapped around his waist.

"Pirate?" I asked, breaking the silence. It was their code to display a red flag on their crafts, a code I didn't fully understand, but was thankful for. His belt looked rather flag-like and I wasn't about to take any chances.

"I am," He nodded, his voice crackling, dried by the salty air and lack of fresh water.

"And them?" I asked, gesturing at the line of bodies.

"I know 'em," He nodded, glancing to them, his stare flitting from each of their faces.

"Weapons?" I asked, scanning him carefully. There was a leather loop on his hip, so I assumed he had a sword. Whether he'd lost it in whatever accident that had put him here or hid it somewhere, it wasn't on him now.

"Lost 'em in the wreck," He said grimly, swaying on his feet, his eyelids drooping.

"Stay where you are," I ordered, taking a step back to stand next to the fire. Quickly, I stooped and picked my flask from the sand and, in one smooth motion, threw it to the man, "Drink your fill, no need to ration it," He nodded in what I took as a grateful gesture and gulped down the contents. As the canteen left his lips he sighed loudly, obviously feeling better for it.

"Thanks," He said, wiping his mouth with his arm, cracking a smile, most of his teeth blackened. The sun was just getting ready to set and I wasn't about to spend the night near this man.

"There's some ray next to the fire, you're welcome to it," I said, catching the canteen as he tossed it back to me, "Dry off, get some rest," This ruined my plans of staying on the island for another week or so. I would have to set off as soon as possible. As calmly as I could, I moved away from the fire, up toward my shack, making sure to keep an eye on him as he moved to get some of the food.

I moved quickly once I reached my home, flipping my boat right side up, exposing my stash of weapons and food. Every minute or so I glanced back down to make sure my guest hadn't moved. I loaded all of my crap into the boat, lashed it down, and began the process of rolling the heavy old rig down to the water, on the opposite side of the thin strip of land to where the fire was. This was dangerous as I wouldn't be able to see the pirate while on the leeward side of the island, but it was safer than doing it next to him, where he could get a look at what he would get for killing me. I used sections of wood to roll the boat down the hill to the water's edge until it sat in the surf, which was a bit rougher this side of the island, but it would make for a clean getaway with the wind to my back. The sun was almost fully set as I raised the mast and got my sails tied in to the halyard and set my sheets, ready to depart. I was doing one final inventory when a splashing sound that wasn't a wave drew my attention. I spun around just in time to catch several shadowy figures moving toward me in the surf. Three of them to be exact, one of them wearing a long coat, a captain's coat usually.

"We appreciate you gettin' our boat ready to sail, my boy," Shot a deep, commanding voice from the middle figure, the one in the jacket, "I only wish we could take ya with us," He laughed. I cursed under my breath, glancing up the hill to where my camp had been, I should have killed the f***ing pirate.

"I don't 'member selling her," I replied, stepping out into the knee deep water, one hand inside the boat, grasping my spear just out of view, "Y'all must be mistaken,"

"Now lad, don't make this more difficult than it has to be," He gestured at me with spread hands, "Just head on down that'a'way and you don' need to die,"

"As generous an offer as that is," I replied, taking a step toward them, lifting the spear out of the boat, "I'll have to decline," With that, I hurled the rod toward them, the glass tip whistling with deadly intent as it streaked toward them. The leader dove to the side, but the man behind him was hit full in the chest, throwing him backward into the water with an agonizing yell. The sound of metal on leather filled my ears as the remaining two drew swords from their belts and began wading toward me and to the right, into shallower water. I moved with them, drawing my knife from my thigh and pacing up toward the beach. I had my doubts that I could take two pirates, much less three once the man from earlier showed himself, but I was going to take as many of them down with me when I went.

I woke up, sweaty and out of breath. A restless nap, but one that had somewhat replenished my energy. I had found somewhere safe enough to rest, but I was determined to find good shelter to create my own camp, or I'd find a pre-existing camp and have to negotiate with it's inhabitants. Either was preferred to roaming the wilderness and hoping that I didn't die. In the distance, I saw smoke lingering in the sky, meaning someone or something had started a fire. Starting my trek towards the smoke, I made sure I had all my belongings on me, gripping tightly onto my branch for protection. If things were dire, I had my dagger, but the branch meant not having to get too close. I noticed that as I got closer to the source of the smoke, the trees became more distant from each other. I realised, this was a path that must have been used by someone else at one point or another in time.

Coming close, I could hear the sounds of commotion and thankfully my common sense was still in tact and I decided to lay low. Making my way quietly into nearby bushes. Lying on my back, I held my branch over me as a sort of shield just in case someone or something tried to attack me while I was down like this. I did my best to listen to the commotion and rate the danger, but my hearing was muffled by the leaves of the bush and my low position only blocked me from a better hearing point.

'I guess I'll be laying low for a long while' I thought to myself, keeping still and quiet. I decided that when I felt it was safe, I'd come out of the bush. I just hoped it'd be soon, for convenience and comfort.

The remaining pirates, now crunching at the teeth at the sight of their fallen comrade, all lurched towards the beach dweller at once, sabres drawn. I stepped back, weaponless, and stayed well out of reach.But the man was quick and swift, ducking underneath the pirate's strikes and weaving around their scabbed, lashing bodies like a sea snake. In an opportune moment, he sidestepped round one of their attacks, burying the head of his spear in their leg as he went. The pirate cried out, his leg folding over as his strength gave in.

"'Elp us, brother!" one of them exclaimed, before their assailant reintroduced his spear to the crippled pirate's neck, ending him. I realised he was talking to me.

"Eh?" I grunted.

"Rule four! Thou shall help the brotherhood under all stakes!" he yelled back, his voice cracking as he parried a strike from the beach man. I realised then that i had forgotten: I was a pirate.The man continued the fight, though his next swing was sloppy. He was punished by a slash to the arm, crippling his spirit for a moment. It wasn't deep, but enough to shake the man, and though he managed to counter by disarming the attacker, the other pirate still remained. With his foe's attention elsewhere, the pirate took a swing at the head - but he was quick, and ducked accordingly. The strike continued its momentum however, scraping the man's back and leaving him vulnerable. But with a stubborn last ounce of effort, he forced his spear into the gut of the pirate before, pulling it out and leaving his victim to leak over the sand.But the last pirate still stood, and with the strength of sea legs kicked the man onto his back. Then, he threw me his pistol.

"Come, brother! End his life and show him what it means to-" I fired. The pirate stopped speaking. Blood oozed from a hole where his right I once were, and he fell. I threw the gun back to his body.

I just lay there in shock, bleeding from my neck and arm into the still warm sands. I gazed up at the pirate from earlier, who now stood above me with a disgusted look on his face.

"You..." I said, half asking.

"Aye," He sighed after a moment, and reached down to help me up.

"Why?" I asked, holding a hand over the shallow cut in my arm.

"I have my reasons," He said simply, eyeing the freshly dead pirates.

"So they weren't with you?" I pressed, just standing there, dumbfounded, the my heart still racing. Adrenaline pumped its way through my veins, causing me to shake rather violently as I tried to calm down.

"They used to be," He said with a dry, humorless bark of a laugh, "Bandage yourself beachboy, yer gonna bleed out," He gestured at me and turned to make his way back over the hump of the island to the fire.

I turned to the boat and did just that, grabbed a few scraps of cloth and tied them around my neck and arm, soaking up the blood and tying them tight enough to limit circulation, hopefully to stem the bleeding. After a moment's consideration, I hopped aboard my boat and hoisted jib and set off from the island, only to turn and round the horn of the small landmass and sail up to my camp, beaching the bow. I hopped off and gave the boat a good tug, dragging it up only a smidge further. It was all I could manage, my rush from earlier was fading and soreness was beginning to set in. Plus the boat was heavy as f***. Once I was satisfied that my craft wouldn't float away, I ventured up to the slowly dimming fire, an aura of heat and amber light emanating from it, fighting back the chill that had begun to creep its way off of the surf, driven by the breeze. As I took a seat across the fire from my apparent savior, soft tendrils of mist began to crawl their way up the sands, licking gently at the barrier provided by the fire. A deep azure sky lay over us like a thick, light flecked blanket, engulfing the endless expanse of the sea in darkness, not a cloud in sight, but a moonless night all the same.

"I'm headed for Dobago come morning," I said after almost an hour of silence, drawing the bearded man's attention, "You're welcome to come if you need a ride. The island was deserted until I came along, so you won't find much by way of help out here," He simply affixed me with a tired stare before returning it to the flames, remaining silent for a while.

"Thanks matey," He said, cracking a half smile, snorting in what I could only assume was amusement.

I witnessed the whole fight, deaths and all. That wasn't how I expected this fight to go, but it sounded like it was a good thing that things worked out that way. Keeping still, I listened and kept low just to be extra safe. After all, dying prematurely was not something I had planned. At least not right now, after seeing what those two were capable of doing. I'd much rather live and die on my own terms. Thinking of that, I wondered if taking some action was necessary. I did need to survive as long as I could after all.

Seeing that it was safe to come out of the bushes, I slowly and quietly moved from my position, careful not to crack any twigs or crunch any leaves as I did. I realised I had two options before me now. I could go back the way I came, to my makeshift camp with no fire and little food or I could try and weasel my way into an alliance of sort with those two and simultaneously up my chance of survival and put myself in danger if things went wrong. Thinking about it, I knew I had to take the leap here and risk the chance of every possible bad scenario happening. Well, here goes nothing.

"Uh," I spoke, hoping I'd catch attention since my voice wasn't the loudest. Now came the hard part. Articulating. Being a worker didn't come with any opportunities for great education, so while I could easily articulate to other workers and to myself, it might not work as great here. "Fighting. Real good." I hoped I didn't sound too stupid to be understood, since it had happened in past encounters with other people. Hell, I just hoped I wasn't killed on sight since nothing could stop either of the two from doing that.

Standing in silence, my breathing shallow, I waited for a response as that was all I could do at that point.

I was resting across the fire from the pirate, leaned back against a chunk of driftwood, nibbling on a filet of ray. The sky was beautiful tonight, the stars flickering gently in the crystal clear night air, everything else was blackness. The gently splashing of waves lapping at the shore the only sound in the night, not a bug stirred. The fire, the only source of warmth for miles, flickering gently in the breeze, a soft chill moving in off the water combating the heat. Suddenly, a voice broke the silence, bringing myself and the pirate to our feet.

"Fighting. Real good," It said, the English broken and rough, but still generally understandable. Our eyes were drawn to a figure standing up the hill from us. Whoever it was, they were thin as bone and slumped in stature, nothing like the proud standing pirates I'd had experience with earlier this evening.

"f*** sakes, another one of yours?" I asked, throwing a glance to the pirate, who looked just as confused as me.

"No, I don't know him," He shrugged, his hand resting on a saber I assumed he'd nicked off of the dead pirates from earlier. I reached down and grabbed my knife from my calf and took a step toward the stranger. He backed up a step, a panicked look crossing his face.

"No trouble, no trouble," He said, waving his hands in front of him, he glanced back, making sure his escape path was clear.

"Who are you?" I asked, glancing about to make sure I wasn't about to be ambushed. Like that worked last time.

"Sweeney, name Sweeney," He said, his panic subsiding a little, "Worker, surviving, food'n'water," He licked his dry lips, his eyes reaching past me to the fire where my canteen sat next to my piece of fish.

"Do you have any weapons?" I asked, still holding my knife at the ready.

"Only knife," He said, pulling a knife from his belt and throwing it down on the sand. I was surprised at his readiness to disarm himself. I guess he was desperate enough for anything, and if he didn't get some food and water he would probably die on this deserted island.

"Kick it over here," I said, gesturing at the sand near us. He did as I asked and gave the knife a hefty kick so it landed a few feet away from the pirate, who scooped it up and pocketed it.

"sh*t knife," He grunted, barely loud enough for me to hear.

"Food an water?" The man asked, looking hopeful. This island was getting way too crowded for me. I would give him some food and water and find a place to sleep for the night, hopefully he wouldn't screw with me.

"Here," I said, moving to the fire and scooped up the canteen. I grabbed a coconut halfshell and poured a good amount of water into it and sat it on the rock next to the fire, near the fish, "You can have that and the fish," I said, pointing to it and backing away slowly, "I'm gonna try to get some sleep," With that, I marched over to my boat and hopped aboard. I planned on sailing up the beach to a more deserted area and getting some shuteye.

Nodding, I moved over to the fish and water the man had set out for me. If I wasn't so focused on getting something into my stomach, I'd be thanking him immensely. Unfortunately, it seems like having sustenance cost me my only knife. I'd have to make another weapon when I got the chance, since I wasn't risking being defenceless for days to come. For now, that wasn't the case. I ate and drank slowly, not wanting to get sick from eating too fast and waste what I've been given.

And with the generous man who gave me the fish boarding a boat, I guess to get away from me and the other man, I also knew that I couldn't fall asleep. After all, the other man pocketed my knife, which means he had one on me in the weapons department. He also looked physically stronger than me, so I wasn't risking being completely vulnerable. I didn't want to die yet. Not here, not now was my personal motto when it came to the idea of dying.

Leaving a small amount of fish, I broke it up with my hands and shoved it into an empty pocket. It wouldn't hold up the best, but I knew I'd need to eat some later. If I ate it all now, I'd be back to relying on the kindness of strangers. Drinking some more water, I stayed by the fire to try and keep warm. Tonight was about comfort, and then for the rest of my time on the island would be about survival.